


blurring music, blurring minds

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, He doesn't have a good time, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Rape/Non-con, he might be a bit of a jerk but, i said that already but like just to Really Set It In, i think in his case its justified, jschlatt's not an abusive jerk here, like a really bad time, schlatt doesn't have a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29687127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Maybe if Schlatt had been paying a little more attention, he would have noticed something was off. Then again, he was drunk, and, more importantly, didn’t care. If he was a little more cautious, or just a little smarter, maybe he would have thought it odd- the girl hanging around him so much. The way she laughed too hard at all his jokes. Then again, she was drunk, drunk people found lots of things funny.Schlatt has a pretty bad time at a party, Quackity's there to take him home.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	blurring music, blurring minds

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, warnings for mentions of rape/non con. There's nothing even sort of explicit, but it is discussed. Also for things like roofies, victim blaming, and stuff like that in general. So if that makes you uncomfortable, please don't force yourself to read it.

There was something so enticing about parties. It’s hard to put a finger on what, exactly, makes it so great. The loud music, the colored lights, the people, the alcohol.

Scratch that. It was definitely the alcohol. At least, for Schlatt, it was.

Which is why he found himself at said party, at two am on a Saturday.

Maybe if Schlatt had been paying a little more attention, he would have noticed something was off. Then again, he was drunk, and, more importantly, didn’t care.

There was a blonde girl hanging around him at some point, grabbing onto his arm and refusing to let go like she was his girlfriend or something. She wasn’t. Schlatt didn’t even recognize her, but that didn’t mean much.

There were a lot of people at this party. He didn’t know any of them, really.

If he was a little more cautious, or just a little smarter, maybe he would have thought it odd- the girl hanging around him so much. The way she laughed too hard at all his jokes. Then again, she was drunk, drunk people found lots of things funny.

Schlatt, on the other hand, was admittedly not drunk. At least not drunk enough. Thanks to all the drinking during high school, now that he was twenty-one, he had built up a pretty high tolerance. He wasn’t enough drinks in to feel much more than a buzz.

He took another swig of his drink, or he tried to, because the cup was empty. He grimaced, moving to go refill it when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Don’t worry, hun, I’ll get you some more.” The girl from earlier said. She took the plastic cup from his hands and walked away, presumably to the kitchen.

That was nice of her. Schlatt deserved it, too, after the week he’d had. It was just… Stressful and overwhelming. The CEO of the company he worked out was on vacation, which meant Schlatt was practically running the place on his own for the month. But it was the weekend, now, which meant he was allowed to unwind. Party. Drink a little.

Or, a lot.

The girl returned quickly, handing him a drink before sitting down in the chair next to him. She kept laughing at everything he was saying, and it was getting to the point of being annoying. Schlatt was _not_ drunk enough to deal with her.

He took a large drink, wincing slightly as it burned down his throat, then stood up. 

“Well, it’s been great, but I’ve got some other people to talk to.” A blatant lie. He had no one to talk to. But she was getting on his nerves, and-

A wave of nausea hit him.

Weird.

He ignored it and pushed through the crowd, sipping the drink as he went. Maybe… It didn’t have to be a blatant lie. He knew _some_ people at the party, didn’t he? Wilbur was here, somewhere, he could go find the guy and talk to him.

The lights were blurring, and the music was, too. How did music blur? He really wasn’t sure, all he knew was that it was.

Schlatt should have realized that he hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol to feel this wasted, but he was, ironically, feeling too wasted to notice.

At least he was, until he felt a sudden weakness in his legs. The room spun. He didn’t know where he was. He was too drunk too quickly, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why.

He stumbled outside, hoping the fresh air would sober him up a little. It didn’t, but he still leaned against the side of the house and slid downwards until he was sitting on the ground. Just in time, too, because his legs were going numb. The house was still blasting music, and he could feel the reverb on his back as he leaned against the wall.

The yard in front of him was blurry. Bushes morphed into trees into street signs into… A fountain. Where was he? Why was he here?

Shakily, he pulled out his phone.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong. He needed to call someone.

Unlocking the phone was easy, something he could do purely off muscle memory. But where was the call button? _How_ did he call someone? He couldn’t even panic about who to call, because he couldn’t remember _how_ to call.

This was bad. This was very bad. His breathing quickened slightly as he started pressing random app icons, praying that one of them would magically call one of his friends.

It wasn’t magic. It wasn’t the prayers, either. It was by pure luck he managed to press the call app, and even purer luck that he had only called close friends recently, because he couldn’t read the blurring name of the contact he pressed on.

  
  
  
  
  


***

Yes, it was the weekend, but Quackity had been studying nonstop all day, so excuse the guy if he wanted a little bit of sleep. It was two in the morning for goodness sakes, and he had barely fallen asleep an hour ago.

He woke up to his phone ringing on the desk in front of him. Oh, he hadn’t even made it to bed, collapsing on the desk. Whatever. He didn’t bother reading the contact name as he clicked ‘answer’.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end groaned out. It would have sounded strange if Schlatt hadn’t drunk dialled him so often. This was familiar at this point. Routine. 

“Schlatt. It’s two in the morning.”

“...Quackity?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I need… I need a ride home. Yeah.” What was unfamiliar was the strain in his voice, the unsureness that laced the words. Schlatt was a confident drunk, not an anxious one.

Still, Quackity was tired. He wanted a break. “We’ve been over this, you’re supposed to arrange rides beforehand. I’m not giving you rides home anymore.”

A pause, and then… “My… Mi novio… Por favor..?” 

_My boyfriend_. They weren’t dating by any means, it was just a stupid joke. But even in Spanish, Schlatt never said please. 

“You are _not_ flirting with me right now.”

“Quack… Uh, Quackity… I think I’m dying.” He muttered.

“You’re not dying.”

“I am.”

“You’re just drunk.”

“I’ve had… Four drinks. I’m not… I can’t feel my face…”

“Only four, huh?”

“I know my limit, Quacks… This wasn’t… Isn’t…” Another pause, and then, “Please.”

This was stupid. Quackity readjusted his beanie and pulled his jacket on. “I’m coming. You sure you only had four drinks?” He got up, grabbing shoes and walking out of his room to get car keys. Technically he wasn’t supposed to leave his college dorm this late, but something in Schlatt’s tone told him that it was an emergency.

“Four… Maybe three… Less ‘n five.” Schlatt’s words were starting to slur together.

“Okay, okay.” He said as he got in the car and started it. “Where are you, anyway? Can you text me the address?”

After getting no response, Quackity spoke again.

“Schlatt? You still with me? I swear if I find out you passed out in a bush somewhere-”

“I don’t… I don’t know where I ‘m.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I don’t know…” Schlatt didn’t sound just confused, he sounded _panicked_. “I ‘ave no idea.”

“Go outside and describe your surroundings, then.” He pulled out of the parking lot despite not knowing where he was going yet. 

“...Loud. Cold. There ‘re trees… Bushes…”

“Schlatt, that’s not-”

“Remember-” He laughed, but it sounded less out of humor and more in pain. Why did Schlatt sound like he was in pain? “‘member when… That fount’n you fell into?”

Quackity did remember, though he wished he didn’t. To be fair, Schlatt _had_ been the one to shove him in the direction of it, even if Quackity was the one who ultimately tripped.

“Got it. I’ll be there soon.” Despite the voice in the back of his brain telling him not to hang up, he did so anyway. Schlatt could handle being on his own for the five minutes it took to drive to the house. Er, the area the house was in, anyway. But if Schlatt could see the fountain from wherever he was, then Quackity could see Schlatt from the fountain.

He wasn’t worried. He was _not_ worried. Schlatt did this all the time. This was normal, this was a repeated incident. 

He was more worried when he saw his friend sitting outside the front of the house, slumped against the wall, a blonde woman leaning over him, saying something he couldn’t hear.

“Schlatt!” He barely parked the car before he ran across the street to them.

The woman’s head immediately snapped up, and she was looking at Quackity disapprovingly. 

“Do you _know_ him?” She asked. She sounded like a jerk. Incredibly judgmental, at least.

“I do. Do _you_?”

“I do.” She repeated his own words back to him, and Quackity had half a mind to curse her out right there.

“Great. Anyway, Schlatt and I were just leaving.”

“Really? Because Schlatt had _just_ told me that he wanted to leave with _me_. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Pet names? Really?

Schlatt looked half awake at this point, which slightly startled Quackity. The man was supposed to be good at holding liquor, not losing it after a few drinks. He glanced at Quackity, then at the woman.

His eyes were out of focus and bloodshot. He looked _terrible_. It took him far too long to answer her question. “...Yeah.”

“See?” She asked, sounding so sure of herself that Quackity almost agreed with her, too.

Almost.

Because his friend was staring at nothing, mouth slightly open. It was quite clear that he wasn’t really understanding anything going on around them.

“Unfortunately, he has to study. Isn’t that right, _baby_ _?_ _”_ He repeated her words from earlier, definitely making them a little more hostile. 

Schlatt’s gaze shifted from nothing to Quackity. Or, near Quackity, because he was quite certain that his friend was looking straight _through_ him. “...Right.”

“Great. We’ll be going now, thanks.” He glared daggers at the woman until she eventually let out a sigh and went back into the house.

Quackity squatted down in front of Schlatt, putting a hand on his cheek and angling his face so they were looking at each other straight on.

“She was a creep, huh?” 

Schlatt’s eyes were red and puffy. His pupils were incredibly dilated. He was staring straight at Quackity’s eyes, but at the same time not looking at him. Schlatt narrowed his eyes, just slightly, then nodded his head.

“Great, you’re wasted, then. Come on.” He stood up, offering a hand to Schlatt, who took it gratefully. It was harder than he thought it would be to pull Schlatt to his feet, and the guy almost fell back down as soon as he was up.

Quackity slung Schlatt's arm over his shoulder. "Let's get you home, papito."

He expected a snarky remark at the nickname. Or at least a bit of a laugh. Instead, Schlatt was silent. 

They were halfway to the car before Schlatt started fighting back. 

"No… No, no, no- stop-" His voice was quiet and the speech was slurred. He shoved at Quackity, but the movement was so weak that it didn’t really have much effect.

"Schlatt, it's okay, it's Quackity. You're safe."

"No, no, no, g't 'ff me…"

"You're safe." He repeated. "Schlatt, it's Quackity I'm taking you to my house."

"'Op… Stop… 'sn't happ'ning, not again…"

Again? 

"Schlatt, what do you mean 'again'?" He doubted he'd get a real answer, but he could at least try. 

"Let… Let m' go… My frien's c'ming… 's gonna…"

“I _am_ your friend.”

“No… Y’re not…”

“What? You don’t remember your good friend Quackity?”

“G’t ‘ff me.”

“ _You’re_ on _me_ , thanks.”

“...Le’ go.”

Schlatt was struggling against Quackity, though it really was no different to when he was coming willingly. Quackity was holding up the majority of the taller man’s weight, practically carrying him at this point. It was easy to lead him to the car, to put him in the passenger’s seat, to close the door behind him and then get into the driver’s seat.

He closed the door behind himself before it set in just how unsettling his interactions with Schlatt had been. 

Because Drunk Schlatt wasn’t quiet. He wasn’t passive. He didn’t agree and go along with everything. Even when Schlatt had started fighting back, it was weak. Nothing like the angry shouting the guy was known for.

“Did you really only have four drinks?”

Schlatt didn’t reply. He had his elbows propped up on his knees, his head in his hands. His seatbelt hadn’t even been buckled yet.

“Are you even listening to me?” 

Again, no response. 

He put his hand on Schlatt’s cheek, lifting his head once again to face him. With his other hand, he brushed back the guy’s hair. Schlatt looked awful, worse than his usual drunk awfulness. “Talk to me, man. Prefieres el español?” On rare occasions, Schlatt would only speak Spanish while drunk.

"No…"

"What _happened_ out there? Who was that girl?"

"...M' fr'nd."

"Really? What's her name?"

Upon realizing Schlatt wasn't going to do his seatbelt, Quackity leaned across him and buckled him in himself. 

"...Dunno."

"Great, great."

He started driving. Schlatt went quiet again. 

Which, again, was odd behavior. Drunk Schlatt wasn't quiet, wasn't passive, wasn't nice. But if Schlatt wasn't drunk, then what-

“You’re not high, are you?”

“I d’n’t smoke.” That was true. Schlatt always preferred drinking to drugs.

“Did you do any drugs?”

“Mm… No… D’n’t do those…”

“Then why are you so-”

Oh.

Oh, no. 

Please no. 

Tell him this wasn't the case. 

"Did someone slip something in your drink?"

“...I… D’nno… Wasn’ watching.”

“ _Schlatt_ , you’re supposed to watch your drink.”

Schlatt shrugged. “‘M tired.”

“I don’t care. You need to be more aware of your surroundings when you’re drinking, man.”

“She… She go’ me a drink. ‘N’ then I… ‘T all wen’ blurry.”

“Who is ‘she’?”

“She… The, uh… Th’ girl.”

“The creepy blonde from earlier?”

“Mhm.”

“You think she drugged you?”

“Mm… Maybe?”

“I’m taking you home.” 

“No…”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Y’re a… Creep… ‘ll call… ‘olice on you.”

He almost slammed on the breaks of the car. “Gross, no, Schlatt, not like _that_.”

Thank goodness the drive back to Quackity’s dorm was short. He pulled into his parking space, got Schlatt out of the car, and led him back to the dorm.

He would have time later to think about how easy it was to maneuver the much-taller man. How despite the fact Schlatt was mumbling swears and insults at him, some of which in Spanish, he still walked with him regardless. Still, he was grateful for it, because usually dragging a drunk Schlatt home was very difficult.

Oh, another thing to be grateful for- none of Quackity’s roommates woke up. That was good, because Quackity really wouldn’t know how to explain why he was carrying a drunk, drugged-out man into his bedroom at two in the morning. He shut the door behind him as quietly as he could, then dropped Schlatt onto the bed.

It took Schlatt a moment before his eyes widened in what could be interpreted as a semblance of understanding, but then...

“J’st… Get’it ov’r with…” He muttered. His fingers gripped the hem of his sweatshirt, starting to pull it up, and Quackity was terrified that the man was about to start stripping.

“No, no, I’m not- that’s not- woah, okay, calm down there. We're not doing any of that." He grabbed Schlatt’s hands and yanked the sweatshirt back down.

“Y’ drag ‘e b’ck to ‘r house…” Schlatt’s words were becoming more slurred, if that was possible. Quackity was struggling to understand him. “‘N ‘r bed…”

“Schlatt, I’m not doing anything to you. Go to sleep.”

He imagined Schlatt would have sat up and argued more if he had the energy to, but he stayed fairly still. Quackity grabbed the blanket off the back of his chair and draped it over Schlatt. The guy was out like a light within minutes. Which was… Good, he thought. Hopefully he could sleep off whatever was in his system fairly quickly, because it looked like they had a lot to talk about when he woke up.

  
  


***

  
  
  


Schlatt woke to light shining into his eyes and a pounding headache. He lay still in bed for ten minutes, praying it would go away, before he realized that, no, it wasn’t going to. With a groan, he opened his eyes and sat up, letting the blankets fall off of him, and…

Where was he? More importantly, what happened last night?

He remembered being at the party, he remembered having just a few drinks, he remembered talking to a girl, and then… Nothing. Absolutely nothing until he woke up here in…

Quackity’s dorm. With Quackity, three feet away from him, sitting in his chair hunched over his desk and lightly snoring.

No way did he… 

No, he didn’t. Quackity wouldn’t. Besides, Schlatt was fully clothed, he even still had his shoes on. So why was he..?

It didn’t matter. He just wanted to go home.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood up, and immediately almost fell over. He wasn’t expecting to feel so weak. He wasn’t sure _why_ he felt so weak, but he did. He practically tiptoed to the door. He placed his hand on the doorknob, only to be stopped by Quackity’s voice.

“Morning, Schlatt.”

He took a long moment to respond. “Quackity.”

“So, are we going to talk about last night, or…?”

“...Please tell me we didn’t… Uh…” He wasn’t going to say it. He was _not_ going to say it. Schlatt was almost positive nothing happened, anyway, but the complete blank space where his memories of last night should be left doubts.

“We didn’t. Sit down, Schlatt.”

His hand was still on the door handle, but slowly, he let go, made his way back to Quackity’s bed, and sat down.

“How much do you remember?” 

“Uh…” How honest was he supposed to be here? Quackity seemed unusually serious today. “Not much.”

“Tell me what you remember.” Yeah, he was in serious-lawyer mode.

Yeah, okay. He was supposed to be _very_ honest, apparently. Got it. “I was at the party, I drank, hung out with some people. I…” He thought about lying, saying he didn’t remember the girl, but his thoughts were too jumbled to come up with a decent lie. “I met some girl. Couldn’t tell you her name, but whatever. And then I woke up here.”

Quackity stared at him for a minute, then buried his head in his hands and let out a loud groan. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He left the room.

Schlatt sighed and dropped back down on the bed. The covers were all too warm, and Schlatt was suddenly very glad he wasn’t wearing his jacket. He… He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t wearing his jacket, nor where the jacket was, but he could deal with that later.

The door opened and closed again, and then Quackity spoke, once again in his serious tone. "We need to talk."

Schlatt did _not_ want to talk. "Can it wait 'till I'm not hungover?"

"You're always hungover. Sit up, I have water for you."

He sat up and was handed a cool glass of water. It felt surprisingly nice against his too-warm hands. He focused more on holding the cup than trying to drink. 

"You were drugged."

Was he supposed to feign surprise? That had been pretty obvious. He only remembered a few drinks, and then he was waking up in Quackity's bed. "Yeah."

“You seem calm about it.” 

He shrugged. Quackity sat down next to him.

“Do you remember any of the conversations we had while you were, uh… You know?”

“Drugged up?” Schlatt suggested, only to immediately receive a light punch on the arm. “I don’t even remember you being there. I told you, it was like I was drinking one minute, and the next minute I was here.”

“Oh.” Was all Quackity said. He looked uncomfortable to say the least, avoiding eye contact, drumming his fingers on his leg nervously.

“...Please tell me I didn’t say anything weird.”

“You… You..” Quackity spared a glance at him, then his gaze immediately went back to the floor. 

“Was it about the triangle shirtwaist factory? Because there’s no proof that I-” He started to joke, but was cut off.

“You’ve been drugged before, haven’t you?”

What?

No, no, he hadn’t.

He had _not_. 

What had he told Quackity?

“Guys don’t get drugged. And I am the biggest guy I know.”

“ _Schlatt_.”

“I haven’t.”

“Schlatt… You know you can tell me, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“I’m just… I’m worried about you, man. You seemed… Really panicked last night.”

Schlatt bit his lip and stared at the ground.

He really didn’t want to know, but part of him knew he couldn’t go just _not_ knowing, either.

“What did I do?”

Quackity looked up at him at that. Looked him right in the eyes, actually, and didn’t break eye contact for a painfully long moment.

“Well, first of all, when I was taking you back to the car, you didn’t recognize me. Trust me, _that_ was startling.”

“...Oh.”

“You also thought I was going to sleep with you.” Oof. That wasn’t a good start. “Cussed me out the entire trip back to my dorm. Partially in Spanish.”

He chuckled. “Good for me?”

“You gave up once I put you in bed. Started trying to take your shirt off, said we should ‘get this over with’.”

Schlatt didn’t reply to that. What was he supposed to say?

“You also said something along the lines of ‘please, not again’.” Quackity looked uncomfortable, saying all that he said, but he also looked determined.

Determined to snoop into Schlatt’s personal life. To find answers to questions he didn’t really want or need answers to. Answers to questions that Schlatt _really_ didn’t want to answer.

But, then again… Quackity had found him, drunk and drugged and vulnerable, and _helped_ him. He didn’t take advantage, at least as far as Schlatt was aware, but he sincerely doubted Quackity would do anything like that anyway. He didn’t leave Schlatt to fend for himself. For goodness sakes, he let Schlatt sleep on his own _bed_.

After a moment of silence, Schlatt forced himself to speak.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“If anything actually happened. I… I don’t remember.”

“Schlatt… Tell me you’re not saying… _When_ , Schlatt?”

“Last summer.”

“You’re joking.”

“I went to a party, drank something a little funny tasting, and then woke up in some chick’s bed with no memory of that night. I… I remembered bits and pieces later on, but, you know.”

“You… Holy crap, Schlatt.”

“It’s not a big deal. Stuff happens.

“Are you… Tell me you didn’t… So this girl, she..?”

“Geez, man, finish a sentence.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just… Wrapping my head around this. Why didn’t you tell anyone? Why didn’t you tell _me?”_ They were supposed to be best friends, after all. Well, maybe not _best_ friends, but close ones, anyway.

He just shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”

Ah, there he was again with his trademark complete lies. It had been a big deal. A _huge_ deal. He took ten scalding hot showers the day afterwards, and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking for a week. He couldn’t stop the feeling of hands brushing across his shoulders, his arms, his-

It wasn’t a big deal. He actually had more or less managed to block out the few memories of the experience entirely.

Those he hadn’t blocked out had been drowned out with alcohol, anyway.

Not that he was drinking to forget or anything, it was just an added bonus from being one stage below being an alcoholic.

“Don’t say that.” Quackity spoke sharply.

“Why not? It wasn’t.”

“It’s a big deal. It’s a big deal to me.”

“Why?”

“Because you got r-”

“I did _not_. Don’t you _dare_ say that, Quackity.” He raised his voice. Not quite to a yell, but enough that Quackity’s roommates could probably hear it.

To his surprise, Quackity raised his voice, too. “I _will_ say it. That’s what happened!”

“No, it isn’t!” Okay, now he was shouting.

“Oh, really? Then what happened, Schlatt? Because it sounds like you got drugged and-” He shouted back.

“Will you shut up?”

“No, I will not!”

“Quackity!”

“Schlatt!”

“I’m fine! _It’s_ fine!”

“It’s not! Stop saying that!”

“I’m saying it because it’s true!”

Quackity closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened them again, setting a hand on Schlatt’s shoulder. In a much quieter voice, he spoke. “You don’t have to be ‘fine’ all the time, you know.”

Schlatt opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Quackity continued. “What happened wasn’t okay. It wasn’t your fault, either.”

“Nothing happened-”

“You literally just told me that something _did_ happen.”

“I… That stuff doesn’t happen to guys.”

“It does. It does and it sucks, but it’s still important to talk about it.”

“I’d really rather not.”

“That’s… That’s okay, too. Take it at your own pace, y’know?”

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Schlatt stared at him for a long moment, then let out a deep breath.

“You’re right. This does suck.”

“Yeah… But seriously, you can tell me anything, okay? I’d prefer if you did, honestly.”

Schlatt stood up. “I figured if I did you’d have turned it into one of your ‘you need to stop drinking’ speeches you’re always doing.”

To be fair, Quackity had definitely considered doing that, but that was before he found out everything that had happened. “I gave you _one_ speech.”

“And that’s one speech too many.”

He rolled his eyes and stood up, too. “Are you still hungover?”

“Always.” He finally took a sip from the cup Quackity had handed him, making a face as he realized the water was no longer ice cold. “Breakfast?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Schlatt nodded at that, then started glancing around the room. “My jacket..?”

“Uh…” He couldn’t help but feel panic tighten in his chest. He hadn’t picked Schlatt up too late, had he? He couldn’t have, the guy seemed fine, but… “You didn’t have it when you left last night.”

A sigh. “Must have taken it off at the party. I’ll have to get a new one.”

“Are… Are you sure _y_ _ou_ took it off?”

Schlatt stared at him, seeming to be thinking. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure. You want McDonald’s?”

“You’re trying to distract me with food, aren’t you?”

“A little. But you could use a little, you’re kind of a flatty patty, after all. How about IHop?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a jerk.”

“Denny’s, then. My treat.”

“Fine. But Schlatt?”

“Hm?” 

“We’re talking about this later. I’m serious this time. You can’t just keep brushing it off, okay?”

“...Yeah, okay.”


End file.
